


paracetamol boys

by lieu42



Category: Robin (Comics), Teen Titans (Comics), Teen Titans - All Media Types, Young Justice (Comics), Young Justice - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Sleepovers, literally just banter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-08-10 18:21:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20139910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lieu42/pseuds/lieu42
Summary: 'Premature hair loss is coming your way. This is the problem with having illegitimate gay dads. It’s genetic bingo.’tim's got a broken nose after a wild (read: painful) patrol night with the teen titans. kon is there to patch him up, as always. cyborg gives them a well-meaning lecture about being idiots. tim stays over, like always. neither of them have heard of subtle in their whole lives but they're still completely oblivious that the crush is actually mutual





	paracetamol boys

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this ages ago but I never posted it because I thought it was bad, but I reread it and decided I was just being melodramatic and some of you might enjoy it anyway

It's gone midnight, easily. When Conner walks into the kitchen, Tim’s already there. He’s hunched over the sink, splashing his face with water. He doesn’t look up when Conner approaches.

‘You alright?’ says Conner.

‘Oh!’ Tim turns abruptly, running a hand through his messy hair. ‘Sorry. I didn’t hear you come in. And, like, sorry for just turning up to your house. I just... I didn’t feel like going back to Gotham, especially since nobody’ll be back from patrol for hours yet.’ He turns back to the sink, running his head under the water and letting it trickle through his hair.

Conner stands next to him, leaning on the counter and listening to the trickle of the taps.

‘You need anything?’ he asks Tim.

‘You got a paracetamol?’ Tim says. ‘

That bad?’

Tim smiles faintly. There’s dried blood on his lips. Conner sticks his hand under the tap and rubs at the blood, pausing to peel Tim’s mask off his face.

‘Your nose is a funny angle,’ he says. ‘Might want to get that looked at.’

‘It’s fine,’ says Tim. ‘Barely hurts.’

Conner doubts that severely. But then again, he’s seen Tim break three of his ribs without even batting an eyelid.

‘It’ll hurt tomorrow,’ he says.

‘Get me a paracetamol, then.’

Conner does, and one for himself. Tim takes his dry. But Conner doesn’t have time to worry about him potentially choking, because he’s just looked down at his own injuries for the first time tonight.

His jeans are shredded. Both of his knees are bleeding, and his thighs and shins are scraped too. Which is no mean feat, seeing as he’s half Kryptonian. He tugs at his shirt, knowing without looking that he’s bruised everywhere. His torso has turned an unattractive shade of purple.

‘Might want to get that looked at, Superboy,’ says Tim, raising an eyebrow.

‘Shut up, Rob,’ says Conner.

They silently head up the stairs, side by side. Lois and Jon are in Clark’s house, Ma and Pa probably with them. Which is a shame, because Conner could use Ma’s cooking right now.

Tim collapses back on Conner’s bed, closing his eyes.

‘Don’t you dare get blood on those sheets,’ says Conner. ‘I literally changed those yesterday.’

‘You’re so broke, Kon,’ says Tim, yawning. ‘Get you a butler.’

Conner ignores him, pulling off his shirt and grimacing in the mirror.

‘Looks bad,’ says Tim. ‘You want ice?’

‘Course it’s bad,’ says Conner. ‘I got dragged through Gotham by one of Penguin’s goddamn robots at about ninety miles an hour, then I got bounced off buildings for longer than I would’ve liked.’

‘You do understand you can fly, right?’

Conner shakes his head. ‘Hit my head pretty early on, and by the time I was conscious again there wasn’t a lot I could do about it.’ He slips his arms into a fresh shirt, wincing at the pain.

‘Think you’re concussed?’

‘I’m Kryptonian. I don’t get that like you normies.’

‘You’re only half Kryptonian. You’re half bald egomaniac too.’

‘Do I look half bald to you?’

‘Premature hair loss is coming your way. This is the problem with having illegitimate gay dads. It’s genetic bingo.’

‘I really don’t think Clark is gay, Tim.’

Tim winks. ‘How do you explain that he had a son with Lex?’

‘They didn’t shag.’

‘Were you there?’

‘I’d really rather not go into that.’

Tim continues to stretch across Conner’s bed. He goes still for a moment, dark hair sprawling in his eyes, and for a moment Conner thinks he’s fallen asleep. He does not want to have to call Bruce, so he hopes Tim can keep his eyes open another twenty minutes.

Tim opens an eye. ‘Did I leave my phone here?’

‘I think it’s at the Tower. Why didn’t you bring it?’

‘Do you know how many iPhones I’ve smashed on patrol?’

‘I’d rather not. You gonna call Bruce and tell him where you are?’

‘I was going to call Cyborg, actually.’

Conner shivers. ‘I don’t fancy calling Cyborg after that mess. Is your comm link still open?’

Tim shakes his head. ‘I think it broke. Couldn’t hear anyone. That’s why I stayed fighting robots so long. Didn’t hear the order to retreat.’

‘Neither. We should probably get that fixed.’ Conner grabs his laptop from his desk and sits on the end of his bed. Tim crawls onto his lap, leaning against his shoulder. Conner has to resist the urge to kiss Tim’s forehead. He’s so cute when he’s like this.

Cyborg’s face flashes up on the screen, face set in a frown. ‘I kept trying to contact you both,’ he says, voice tinny through the laptop speakers. ‘What happened to the comms?’

‘Mine cut out,’ says Conner. ‘Tim’s, too.’

Cyborg grimaces. ‘Fantastic. We’ll have to look at that tomorrow. Look, I know you both are probably tired, but can we do a quick debrief? I’ve spoken to the others already, but I want a word with you two.’

‘That’s fine,’ says Conner. He glances down at Tim, who’s staring blankly at the screen. ‘You okay?’

Tim blinks. ‘Fine.’

‘Okay. So.’ Cyborg inhales. ‘That was an absolute train wreck out there. One of Penguin’s schemes shouldn’t have taken the team apart like that. Where was our strategy? Tim, I wanted you shutting down the robots, not fighting them off with a staff.’

‘I couldn’t hear you,’ says Tim. ‘Comms, like Kon said.’

‘You’ve got to use your brain, mate.’

‘Sorry, Vic. I’m tired lately.’

‘Why were you out there, then? Seems a waste to get beaten up like that for nothing.’

Tim inhales sharply. ‘I -’

Cyborg cuts him off. ‘Just because comms were down doesn’t mean I couldn’t see you.’

Tim closes his mouth tightly, leaning back into Conner’s chest. Conner puts an arm round his shoulders, glaring at Cyborg.

‘And you, Conner,’ Cyborg continues. ‘What exactly were you doing out there?’

'I thought I could grab onto one of the lead robots and shut it down from closer.’

‘Well, you clearly couldn’t. As soon as you were trying to climb that rope, it was swinging you round like a rag doll. That seems a lot of trouble when you could’ve just blasted it.’

‘Civilians get hurt when I blast stuff.’ Conner lets his eyes drift from Cyborg’s stare.

‘So work on that in training! For god’s sake, I -’ Cyborg sighs, biting his lip. ‘Look, sorry for the lecture. But you have to understand that we can’t be doing this every night. It’s embarrassing, and it’s not doing any of you good. Can you promise me this is a one-off?’

Tim and Conner both nod.

‘Get some sleep, then. Skip next Titans patrol if you need to, but come to training. Also, Tim, your nose is broken and you need to get that fixed tonight or Bruce will be at me. Goodnight, boys.’

The screen cuts to black, and Conner’s suddenly aware of how close he and Tim have become.

‘Look at me?’ he says, cupping Tim’s face in his hands.

‘It _is_ broken, isn’t it?’

‘You could’ve _said_.’ Conner doesn’t let go of Tim’s face, keeping eye contact.

‘Can you strap it?’

‘I don’t want to screw it up, Tim. I’ve done it maybe twice before. I’ll take you to the hospital.’

Tim yawns, trying to cover it with one hand. ‘I trust you, Kon.’

‘I don’t know if it’ll hurt. I don’t have any painkillers or anything.’

‘Please, Kon. I don’t want to have to go out again tonight.’ Tim’s voice is considerably quieter.

‘Tim, I seriously don’t want to mess it up.’

‘Try. Please. And I’ll call Bruce if it still looks like a mess.’

‘You should’ve already called him! I should’ve called him, goddamnit. Does he know where you are? You’re injured, Tim. You should be with Bruce, not me.’

Tim bites his lip, pulling away from Conner. ‘I'd rather stay with you, though,’ he says, voice small.

Conner looks at him hard, trying to assess the damage. Tim would definitely be in safer hands with Bruce, but Conner hates to upset him when he’s like this.

‘I’ll have a go,’ he says, finally. ‘But call Bruce first, and tell him where you are.’

Tim doesn’t move, staring blankly beyond Conner. Conner grabs his phone off his desk, scrolling through his contacts for Bruce. He tosses the phone to Tim. Tim puts it on speaker, not bothering to lift it to his ear.

‘Tim?’ Bruce’s voice echoes into the room, tinny and distant.

‘Yeah.’

‘Where are you? Cyborg called, said the team got in a bit of a state. Are you alright?’

‘I broke my nose.’ Tim’s voice is a monotone.

‘Again?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Where are you, though? Do you have someone with you?’

‘Kon’s here.’

‘Oh, that’s fine, then. Can he sort your nose?’

‘I don’t know,’ Conner breaks in. ‘I think I might screw it up.’

Bruce sighs. ‘Well, I’ll have to take him to get it properly fixed at some point anyway, so give it a go. You’ve done it before, right?’

‘He can do it fine,’ says Tim, glancing at Conner.

‘Okay, then. Are you staying the night?’

‘If you’re okay with that,’ says Tim, to Conner.

Conner flushes. ‘That’s fine. You don’t have to ask, you know.’

Tim smiles faintly.

Bruce’s voice cuts through the silence. ‘Get that fixed quick then, Conner, then please get some sleep, both of you. It’s late.’

‘Okay,’ says Conner. ‘Thanks, Bruce.’

‘No problem. Goodnight, boys.’

‘Night,’ says Tim, hanging up.

‘You want to come downstairs, then?’ says Conner. ‘You’ll need ice.’

They both sit on the kitchen floor, cross-legged and facing each other.

‘Go on, then,’ says Tim.

Conner reaches towards his face, then hesitates. ‘You gotta tell me if it hurts.’

‘I _will_.’

‘Okay. Okay.’ Conner presses his fingers gently against the bridge of Tim’s nose. Tim breathes in sharply. Biting his own tongue, Conner pushes the crooked part of Tim’s nose with his fingertips. It’s painfully slow, but it seems to be moving a little. He puts more pressure on the bridge of Tim’s nose, shoving it into place.

Tim snaps his head away, breathing heavily. ‘Ow. Fuck.’

‘Are you alright?’ Conner leans in close to Tim, heart thudding.

Tim screws his eyes tightly shut, then opens them again. ‘Yeah. Yeah. Is it straight?’

‘It looks okay,’ says Conner, hugely relieved he won’t have to go through that whole ordeal again. He tilts Tim’s face towards him gently, padding his nose out with gauze then taping it in place.

‘Your hands are really shaking,’ Tim says, smiling.

‘Because that was _stressful_.’ Conner wipes his hands down his jeans, handing an ice pack to Tim. He finds himself yawning.

‘I might crash,’ says Tim, glancing up at Conner. ‘I’m hella tired.’

‘You asleep?’ Conner pads over the room to where Tim is curled up on his bed. He’s already turned out the lights, and he almost trips over Tim’s abandoned Robin suit, lying discarded and bloodstained on the floor.

‘No.’ Tim rolls over, yawning.

‘Want me to put a movie on or something?’ Conner glances over to the blue light gleaming from his laptop, open on his desk. He’s attempting to do an unexpected piece of homework due in several hours ago, but he’d almost fallen asleep as soon as he’d started typing.

‘I don’t know. Maybe.’ Tim stretches out, pulling the blankets over his legs. He’s wearing one of Conner’s old sweatshirts, which is down to his knees.

‘I’ll be there in a minute,’ says Conner, reluctantly sitting back down at the desk. ‘I gotta finish this.’

‘Do it tomorrow.’

‘I can’t. I already missed the deadline.’

‘Must be tough being broke. I’ll transfer your teacher a couple grand.’

‘You’re so entitled.’

‘I’ll take that as a compliment.’ Conner yawns and immediately regrets it.

‘See, look at you. You’re falling asleep. So much for half-Kryptonian.’

‘My bald gay side is showing.’ Conner half-heartedly types a few words.

‘I don’t disagree. Look, come sit with me. Bring your laptop, if you must.’

Conner rolls his eyes, then crashes on the bed next to Tim, still typing. He’ll just stay there until Tim falls asleep, then he’ll finish this.

But Tim’s breathing is so soft and even. His own eyelids are drooping in a matter of seconds, and he doesn’t even notice when his laptop falls from his hands and crashes onto the floor. He’s already as good as asleep, curled up with Tim in a tangled mess of blankets.

‘G’night, Kon,’ Tim murmurs into Conner’s chest.

‘Night, Tim.’


End file.
